


Elysium (explicit)

by The Curator of The Sands (GrimRevolution)



Series: The Knight and the Princess [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, F/F, Lesbians, Magic, Sex, cause that's important to tag, not graphic sex, okay i lied it's like 2k but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 12:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12959724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimRevolution/pseuds/The%20Curator%20of%20The%20Sands
Summary: “It does not matter, for you are unarmed,” the Ohgihrian hissed, “and alone.”“I am never alone.”(the adult version)





	Elysium (explicit)

**Author's Note:**

> this is just one chapter because i dunno if the rest of the fic will have explicit content or not (it probably will and i'll update this accordingly)
> 
> here u go; some lesbians for ur day

Hunk had outdone himself, Pidge thought as the servants began to stream in through the doors. They had dishes piled high on their trays—soups first; chilled ones that he had spoken to her about that were various colours and flavours. They were perfect for the warm dining hall and the heat of the Altean summer. Pidge felt kind of bad for calling them smoothies in a bowl.

Only kind of, though.

She was too busy running back and forth from the kitchens, grabbing Allura’s food, wine, and water to ever truly be distracted by her thoughts. And, when she wasn’t running, she was sitting behind the princess in the shadows, silent and out of sight.

“Princess,” one of the foreign dignitaries spoke up. He was sitting on the other side of the Princess as her right had been claimed by the king. “I do believe your servant is hungry.”

“Oh?” Allura hummed and there was a small tilt of amusement in her tone. The silver spoon clinked against the bowl of soup, looking sharp against the light, pink colour and the sharp red of the berries.

The Ohgihron nodded. “Yes, Princess, he keeps in this direction.”

 _It’s my job_ , Pidge wanted to point out to him but, instead, stepped forward to take the empty jug.

“Well,” the princess said as the knight passed by her. One hand reached out, subtly, under the table cloth and ran up Pidge’s hip, “he is _my_ servant.” There was a purr of possession in her voice.

Pidge fought the urge to shudder and took a few of the empty plates and bowls. A thumb hooked into the belt loop of her pants and tugged, teasingly.

“Perhaps he is merely watching to make sure I am happy.”

Pidge met Allura’s half lidded gaze and stopped breathing for a moment as the Princess’ bright eyes settled upon her. A finger dipped below the waistband and ran, teasingly, across the fabric of the tucked shirt.

“I would agree, Princess.” The dignitary was still speaking and Pidge turned her attention back to the empty dishes that needed gathering. She forced herself to ignore the subtle tugging on her pants until Allura exhaled something that could have been a sigh—it was far too happy to be disappointed though—and released her. “But there is a hunger in his gaze and he keeps redirecting his attention away from the food.”

“ _Hunger_?” Allura sounded pleasantly amused more than worried. Instead, she pricked a berry with her fork and brought it up to her lips. The soup dripped off it and she sucked the liquid off before taking it into her mouth. “I’m sure he’ll find a way to satisfy it.”

Pidge fled to the kitchens to grab more wine and maybe bury her face into a pot of boiling oil. That would surely be able to sear off the blush that was spreading across her cheeks.

oOo

Around the main entrée, Keith took the place of the servant behind the king. Alfor didn’t notice as both the old and new servant wore the same clothes and kept themselves out of sight so as to not be a disruption, but Pidge did. They weren’t able to cross paths until, at last, both were sent back for water and wine.

They passed Hunk who only partially looked up when they passed before he turned his attention back to the plates that were being prepared. As they placed the jugs under the barrels, Keith passed her a small, black and green chip. It was one of the data collectors from the BLIP tech and, when Pidge flicked her wrist, a small screen popped up above it.

“I can’t read it,” Keith said, and it was mostly numbers and letters, data that could be plugged into a different program to show all the details at once.

Pidge skimmed it, frowning the further she got. “Did you drop it into their ship?” Her voice was quiet enough to be covered by the sound of the wine hitting the bottom of the jug.

“No, we had to put it underneath.”

She imagined Keith or Lance trying to squeeze, unnoticed, under the ship and stopped the smirk before it could take over her face. “This,” Pidge said instead, tapping on a number that didn’t seem any different than the rest.

“What’s that?”

Looking up, she met his gaze. The amusement had completely abandoned her features and there was nothing except seriousness. “That’s the number of people still on the ship.”

oOo

Keith promised to take the information back to Shiro and, by desserts, he was gone and the original servant was back.

No one noticed.

The feast continued and music joined the conversation, weaving in and out of words. Allura was talking with the officials from the Ohgiron government and they smile pleasantly at her, speaking politely and kindly. Alfor kept his daughter in the conversation and it seemed like no one disagreed—they all seemed to be watching the princess.

Enthralled, perhaps. Or curious.

There was no move towards her, no move towards the food or the drink, but Pidge didn’t stop watching. At some point, she saw Lance slip into the room and say something to one of the door guards before he was gone again. She didn’t see Keith or Shiro for the rest of the night and, by the time the food had been finished and all the plates cleared, she wasn’t expecting to.

Later, when everyone was excused to go rest before the meetings tomorrow, Pidge walked beside Allura back to the princess’ rooms. Not beside her, beside her, but a little bit behind so they weren’t quite equal but could still talk.

“Please, give my compliments to Hunk,” The Princess said, “he out did himself tonight—and with such notice!”

Pidge nodded because he had—the Yellow Knight would have been in his rooms already, passed out on his bed had nobody said something to him. Instead, he would stay up the rest of the night, cleaning up with the rest of his crew and keeping an ear out.

“And _you_ ,” Allura turned upon Pidge the moment they had moved into a more secluded section of the castle. There was a playful tint to her eyes and the green knight swallowed. “I was very grateful to have you by my side tonight.

“Your highness—”

The Princess pressed her finger to Pidge’s lips, silencing her. “Allura, please, in private.”

“Allura,” Pidge corrected and the name sounded foreign on her tongue after all the years of being forbidden to say it out of respect. It felt odd, forming in her mouth now even though she had said it under... much different circumstances earlier. “I’m afraid I didn’t do all that much.”

Besides watch and wait and spill secrets in the kitchen to Keith.

“Hmm,” Allura pulled her hand away from the servant’s face and tapped her chin. “Maybe not visibly,” The princess admitted, “But I felt safe, with you there.”

Pidge didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

The princess’ smile turned savage. “But I did hear one of our guests mention that you seemed _hungry_.” Allura leaned forward, eyes dark, lips curled in a smirk. The knight flushed but she wasn’t sure if the heat was from her blush or from how close the other woman was.

It could have been due to both.

“Perhaps there’s something we could do about that.”

Hungry could have many meanings—hungry for food, hungry for victory, or, as Pidge was pressed up against the stone wall of the hallway, hungry for another _person_. The clothing she had been wearing throughout the evening was already mussed from running back and forth between the dining room and kitchen all night, so it was easy for Allura to pull the shirt out of the slacks and undo the bottom three buttons so she could slide her palm over the soft, stomach skin.

Their mouths came together with two desperate gasps and the Knight wrapped her arms around the Princess’ neck. A storm brewed between them like a witch’s potion, bubbling up and boiling over the sides of their cauldron hearts until Pidge was pushing up into Allura’s touch like needles to a magnet and Allura held onto Pidge like she was dirt slipping through her fingers.

“ _Here_?” Pidge gasped as they pulled apart for air.

“ _Yes_ ,” Allura murmured against swollen lips. _Right here. Right now_.

The Knight consented with a soft moan and felt the stone hard and cold against her back and the princess, warm and soft to her front. A hand reached under her left thigh and pulled her leg up so she could hook her knee around Allura’s waist. And then her right leg was being lifted as well and she pressed into that warm body in front of her, chest to chest, the buttons and seams of her clothes catching on soft silk

Allura didn’t mind; she just pulled away from Pidge’s open lips to duck down and suck on the skin that connected neck to jaw. “I don’t think you understand,” the princess said into that bit of flesh and Pidge felt the vibrations of her words all the way down to her toes, “how much I wanted to _touch_ you tonight.”

“I have an idea,” the knight chuckled breathlessly and earned a nip beneath her ear for the words. Her weight was being supported by the wall and her grip around Allura’s hips, leaving those royal hands to run up and down her ribs, flutter under the open flaps of her shirt, and smooth the fabric over her thighs.

“You are a damn _tease_ ,” Allura murmured and dragged her lips down pale flesh, scraping her teeth along the arch of Pidge’s throat and smiled as the woman in her arms jerked and gasped. “Maybe I’ll take my revenge.”

Pidge moaned as fingers brushed over the skin just above her waistband and she shuddered because she knew a lot of things but this? _This._ A finger brushed her belly button, dipped in and then out again. It pushed the shirt higher up, revealing more of her smooth stomach and the light dusting of freckles just under her ribs.

 _This_.

She trembled. The hand stopped, the lips paused.

“Pidge?”

The knight breathed out slowly and watched the ceiling until a palm cupped her cheek and gently guided her head so she was looking into Allura’s soft eyes. She could be buried in that gaze, buried deep and swallowed into the depths of the Princess soul, kept captive there and be content, forever. “Allura?”

When the princess kissed her, there was something different about it—the last times had been smothered with desperation and heat, burning with heat that would eat Pidge alive. This new kiss was soft like the ocean—waves rising and falling and she was just a humble ship, rocking back and forth, letting the currents take her where ever they pleased.

“I lost you there, for a moment,” The Princess said and Pidge exhaled again and rested their foreheads together. She didn’t open her eyes, not yet, but just held on instead.

“I was thinking,” the knight admitted.

Allura hummed as if she expected nothing else. “That’s okay,” she said.

Pidge finally opened her eyes and there was the Princess, her gaze like starlight. “I never stop thinking,” she tried again. Not quite knowing what she was trying to say, only that it was important.

“I _know_ ,” the princess said, and those eyes never changed and her smile was kind and it was that _look_. That look she had seen so many times in her youth between her father and her mother. A look she never dared to dream would ever be directed at deer legged, freckled, too-smart Katie Holt. “I don’t want you to stop.”

The knight’s breath hitched as a thumb brushed over her stomach and rubbed small circles on her abdomen. “You’re not supposed to think when you’re...” she couldn’t quite say it and settled for flushing instead.

Allura laughed, but it was the soft kind of laughter—the one that came from river nymphs. It moved up through her body and Pidge felt the sound cupped between her thighs and in her chest where their ribcages were pressed together. “You think when you sleep,” the princess said, “you think when you’re working, and the only time you don’t think is when you’re too sick to do so.”

Pidge jerked slightly but that hand on her jaw kept her still.

While she had spoken, Allura’s gaze had sharpened. “I’ve seen that,” The princess murmured, “I never want to see you like that again.”

There was not a promise she could make that had the possibility of being kept in regards to that, so Pidge didn’t make one. Instead, she leaned into Allura’s touch and rubbed her cheek into the soft palm before turning her head just enough to press her lips against the fingers. Humming, the Princess leaned in and kissed the knight’s cheek, her nose, her forehead, and then finally on her mouth.

There wasn’t anything different about it from the others—there was only, and ever, love.

Between them, the fire hadn’t died, just simmered, and the coals flared to life as Allura dragged her tongue from Pidge’s earlobe down to her collar. The knight buried her fingers in the other woman’s hair, cupping the back of the Princess’ skull and holding on as that tongue traced the valleys and mountains below her neck.

Still cold against her back, the stone was dragging her shirt up further around her waist as she slid down and Allura pulled back, adjusted Pidge so her shoulder blades were flat against the wall, and pushed her back so the castle could bear her weight and the princess could focus on other things.

Like those pants that were in the way of her hand and the spot on Pidge’s neck that, when sucked on, made the knight moan so beautifully.

With every light touch, Pidge could imagine electricity travelling along every nerve, spiking at Allura’s touch and growing in strength like a tidal wave so, by the time they reached her brain, she was arching into the hands against her skin. A different spark rose up among the rest—the kind that belonged to a guitar string rather than a wire.  Opening her eyes, the knight looked down at the fingers currently playing with the small, black button of her trousers. Nails clinked against the plastic and Allura took it between her thumb and index finger then twisted it.

All while looking up at Pidge.

It was weird to be looked up to, but Pidge could nod and she could pull the Princess’ face up so she could distract herself with those lips and that tongue and her hot breath that tasted like wine.

The button popped and the zipper hissed. Pidge jumped at the first touch at the bared skin and Allura hummed and spread kisses across her cheeks and chin before capturing her lips again. Teeth dug into the already swollen flesh and the knight moaned, eyes fluttering back closed as that hand pushed down further and further under thin fabric and—

A gasp ripped itself from Pidge’s throat like a beast fleeing a cage and the knight held onto the princess’ shoulders. “Allura!”

“Good?” The princess said, breathless, and Pidge nodded frantically. Fingers dipped a bit lower and found wet heat. They were warm and snapped with electricity that sparked up through vertebrae, tendons, and soft muscle. “Here?”

“ _Y-yes_!”

Allura held the bucking hips still, pressing them back against the wall and pinning them between her flesh and the stone. She wanted to touch, wanted to hold, wanted to watch the woman against the wall lose herself and hold her while she came back.

Pidge pressed her face into the princess’ shoulder, dug her nails into the silk dress, and felt her hips roll in a motion she couldn’t quite control. Her trousers had been pushed down enough that they barely clung to her hips and she watched Allura’s hand vanish, ever so steadily, down under the fabric. And she _felt_ it; the ocean and the stars twisting together inside her chest and rising to consume her. Each pant was like exhaling stardust and inhaling light.

And all around her, there was Allura—lips on a curved neck, hand on a stomach, hair like the moon light streaming through the window. Pidge was being swallowed by the Princess and her touches and the heat of the air between them and found... she didn’t mind.

One finger pushed _in_ and the knight shuddered and gasped.

“Still okay?” Allura breathed against the pale jaw and Pidge managed to—after a second—nod.

It was strange at first—different, not _bad_. Pidge twisted slightly, adjusted to the left, and Allura chuckled against her skin. The pad of a thumb moved higher, touched like a feather and made heavy steel drive the air from already gasping lungs.

Pressing her mouth—open and dry—against the princess’ neck, the knight hoped to stifle the long and low moan that rose up through her chest. “More,” Pidge managed, “More, more, _please_ —” The faint edge of her teeth dragged faintly against dark skin with every word.

Allura half hummed and half moaned. Her fingers fluttered and the one inside pulled out far enough that Pidge was half afraid she would pull out entirely—but a second finger joined and the _stretch_ and the _push_ —

Thighs tightened around the princess’ waist and something hot and sludge-like was growing from those fingers up through Pidge’s stomach until it reached her lungs, her throat, her _head_. She was such a sensitive summer thing; gasping with every thrust, holding on to Allura’s shoulder and panting into the soft fabric of the dress.  Hips rolled and followed the hand that had brought fire down from the very gods themselves.

“ _Allura_.”

Heat was between Pidge’s legs and it was in her stomach and in her chest and was spreading across her face and she wondered if she was being slowly burned alive.

Thought jumbled and roared and fell, spinning and spinning until there was no such thing as royalty or a knight or a small young woman disguised as a boy in the bowels of a castle.

There was just Allura and stars and _fire_.

“ _Please_ ,” Pidge gasped again and didn’t know what she was asking for. “ _Please.”_

Allura held onto the young woman in her arms and ran her thumb over a bundle of nerves that sent Pidge crashing like a wave upon a beach. She gasped and sobbed into the soft silk of that brand new dress and, with her, was the princess ran her hand across soft, pale skin and soothed the muscles that had locked themselves enough that they gradually released.

A strange exhaustion was left in its wake; good, like a long workout, but heavy.

It was a slow process—getting her feet back on the floor—and Pidge held onto Allura the entire time, leaning into and sighing at every gentle, guiding touch. The Princess pulled her pants back up to her hips but left them unbuttoned and unzipped as she ducked down and captured swollen, pink lips once again. Leaning into the kiss, the knight moaned softly as a hand pushed back up underneath her partially unbuttoned shirt and rested, warm, on her side.

“I’d take you to bed,” Allura murmured and the words made Pidge shudder and look up at the taller woman, “I _want_ to.”

 _I want that_ , Pidge thought and it struck like a meteor how much she _did_ want it—how much she wanted to touch and to feel and to _taste_. She pushed up into the princess, pressing her face into her shoulder and exhaled shakily. _Please_.

A hand ran through brown hair, ruffling it up even more than it already was. “Tomorrow,” Allura promised breathlessly, and pulled Pidge back, carefully, so that their eyes met. “ _Tomorrow,_ when everything is finished and the dignitaries are gone.”

 _Tomorrow_ , Pidge agreed, her eyes fluttering closed as Allura leaned down once more. _Tomorrow_.

oOo

The night passed slowly, finally settling into the part of the evening where only a few people were moving about, and Pidge sat, legs folded, in someplace that was between wakefulness and asleep. The floor of the castle was cold beneath her, the thick sweatpants diminished the chill, but the loose tank top hung, too big, around her slim form and she kept her back straight to keep from touching the wall.

Pidge’s eyes were closed—but her ears were focused on every sound. Beside her, something moved; a ghost, perhaps, or something stranger. It growled softly, unheard by anyone except for the green knight and brown eyes opened slowly.

Someone was moving through the hallway.

She stood, getting up to her bare feet, picked up the dishes and silverware beside her, and made her way slowly through the hallway, back towards the princess’ rooms. Balancing everything on one hand, Pidge made sure to ruffle her hair with the other, slump her shoulders, and drag her feet. The act didn’t last long before she came across three figures—none of them bothering to hold a light. Cloaks dropped down over their shoulders, hiding their arms and, therefore, the holsters on their belts from view, but revealed the pale, stolen, Altean armour.

“Apologies, my Lords,” Pidge bowed her head slightly, eyes open and focused on their feet, “I didn’t see you.”

“The fault is ours, servant,” one said, the middle Ohgihrian.

Pidge’s shadow growled deep in its throat. The sound vibrated through the hallway.

Plates hit the floor and shattered, silverware clinking on the pieces. Steel hit steel with a thunderous screech and echoed across the stone. The long, thin dagger glinted, looking like a shard of moonlight. It hovered inches away from Pidge’s neck and the thin bit of cartilage that separated vertebrae from vertebrae.

He had been aiming to sever her spinal cord in one, swift blow.

The blade that stopped it was less of a shard of light and more like the root of a tree; thicker, semi-curved at the top like a hook, and had green energy as the blade that pulsed in time with a trunk dancing in the wind. Black metal—at least, it looked like metal—made up the handle and the spine of the blade

It wasn’t so much a dagger as quintessence made to resemble one.

Green—an unnatural green, the kind of chemicals and danger—had flooded over the brown of Pidge’s eyes and they glowed with the power of old, wild things.

She stepped forward before the Ohgihrian could twitch and sliced open his throat. He gurgled as he fell, blue blood splashing across the stone, forehead down and bowing at her feet. Pidge didn’t look at him; her focus was on the other two and how they stepped around her, out of reach of her weapons. The Knight pressed her free thumb against the leaf tattooed upon her wrist that was glowing the same colour as her eyes and the dagger, and pulled away smoke made of light.

It twisted like a nebula and formed a matching blade as if it was a star.

The Ohgihrian to her left opened his mouth as if to speak and she lunged forward like a fencer and gutted him so the only words that came out of his mouth were garbled around a groan. He too, fell to the ground, and the Knight parried the sword swung towards her head. Blood on stone made the sanded down surface too slick to do quick movements. Pidge settled with parrying for now, stepping on cracks to keep her grip. The bottom of her sweats slapped around her ankles—heavy now that they were wet.

The last Ohgihrian was watching her, having drawn his own, thin, rapier. The blade was made of some black metal that didn’t glint in the moonlight and seemed, instead, like it swallowed the light around it. His thrusts were swift and light, darting back and forth as if the tip was a buzzing insect. Pidge knocked the tip away, redirecting it away from her body and holding the other dagger close.

His weapon had more reach but every time she knocked it outward, he was able to bring it back in faster than she could close the space. The death throes of the other two Ohgihrians had quieted leaving nothing but the clang of metal and steep breathing between the Knight and the Mercenary.

A thrust towards her neck forced Pidge to use the blood to slide around his legs sand slip around—

“Pidge!”

She turned to the voice automatically—out of habit—and managed to catch sight of the bright pink nightgown that belonged to the princess if Altea.

Her shadow roared and Pidge ducked to the side without looking. Metal whistled as it passed her and she rolled into that gap it left behind and stabbed the daggers up blindly.  

The Ohgihrian howled and fell to his knees, his sword falling to stone with a clatter.

Stumbling slightly—clumsy—Pidge got up to her feet, ripped the dagger out of his flesh, and stabbed him in the fleshy bit of neck right before the collarbone. Unprotected and too vulnerable even in the armour. He stared up at her with wide eyes and slid to the side, off the blade, joining his comrades on the floor.

She left him there, breathing coming out in soft pants, her sweats heavy and falling ever so slightly around her hips, the tank top loose and breezy around her sweat slicked skin. The daggers were blown away by her breath, whisking away as if they had only been smoke that entire time.

In the corner, the shadow rumbled.

Pidge stumbled when she turned, almost tripping over her own feet, and tugged the pants higher on her waist, tightening the drawstring. Her shoulder ached and the knight rolled it carefully to make sure it was just stinging from her roll instead of something more damaging. It was aching, but nothing serious.

“Pidge.”

She didn’t look up at the Princess. She didn’t look at the bodies. “There might be more on the way, Your Highness.”

“ _Pidge_.”

Careful, gentle hands cupped her jaw and tilted the Knight’s face upward. Her eyes still glimmered with that faint, wild green but they closed, slowly, at Allura’s touch.

“You’re hurt—”

That didn’t matter.

It _didn’t_.

She was supposed to protect the princess in any way necessary. “It’s nothing.”

Lips brushed across her cheek and Pidge gasped—from the slight sting or from the touch, she wasn’t sure. She opened her eyes in time to watch Allura pull away and heard, distantly, the sounds of metal clashing and yelling.

“We have to go,” Pidge said and she picked the black sword off the ground, took the Princess’ hand, and headed towards the small servant’s staircase just left of the royal chambers. It was quiet and dark but the Knight led Allura down the steep steps, winding down and around, passing branching off hallways that led to other sections of the castle. It was silent in the way that death was—the echoes of fighting swallowed up by walls and wooden doors. The fighting didn’t seem like it was coming from any of those small passages and the knight was grateful for the amount of security that, at least, gave them.

“Where are we going?” Allura murmured as they passed another hallway—one that led out to the courtyard and gardens. She seemed dazed, as if the situation hadn’t quite caught up with her.

“Away from here,” Pidge told her, focused on getting away as fast as possible. Her first priority was the Princess—she had to have faith in the rest of Voltron. She had to believe in their capabilities.

They came out in the empty laundry rooms; drying uniforms, sheets, and clothing were hung about. A jacket had been left hanging on the back of a chair. Pidge glanced back at Allura’s thin night dress and pulled a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a woven sweater off the line. “Your highness,” she said, holding the clothes out to the Princess.

For a moment, it looked like Allura would argue, but then she, too, looked down at the pyjamas and took the clothes. Pidge turned her back to give her some privacy and looked over the weapon.

The sword was made of some sort of metal she’d never seen before. It didn’t bend like normal rapiers, and—while others of its kind were more for stabbing than slicing—this one was cut in a triangle so it not only had a point but also three, sharpened edges. She swung it like one would a broader sword but it was silent.

It wasn’t Ohgihrian and it wasn’t Altean.

“What about my father?” Allura’s voice was soft from behind her, “Do you know anything of him?”

She didn’t.

“The Black knight,” Pidge said, her words slow as she chose them carefully, “would rather die than let any harm befall the King.”

Something crashed above them and the Knight darted forward, taking Allura’s hand in her own and pulling her forward, away from the staircase and towards a closet door. It opened with ease and she shoved the cleaning supplies out of the way and grabbed the ring to the trap door. Hoisting it took more effort than it should have—years of sitting still and rust had glued the hinges together.

Allura took one side and, together, the women hauled it open.

A wooden ladder led down into the dark. Pidge shut the closet door.

The princess hesitated. “Where are you taking me?”

“To safety.” Out of the castle, far from the fighting.

Silence crackled between them. “I will not leave my people to _die_ ,” Allura hissed, “while I run off to hide.”

Curse stubborn, honourable _royalty_. “That is,” Pidge snapped back, “exactly why they die; so you might _live_ , Allura.” The Green Knight pointed at the open trap door, teeth bared in a partial snarl. “Now, climb down the _fucking_ ladder or so help me _—_ ”

Giggling stopped the words in her throat and Allura had pressed one hand against her lips to muffle the sound.

Pidge flushed, cleared her throat, and straightened up again. “Sorry, I—”

“No,” Allura waved away the apology and Pidge was probably imagining the dusting of colour on dark cheeks, “no—you’re right, of course.” She looked away and the small, brief burst of happiness was gone. With a sigh, the Princess turned towards the trapdoor, the ladder, and started climbing down.

Waiting until her white hair had vanished into the dark; Pidge grabbed the old wood and lowered the trapdoor as she descended, closing it and encasing both of them in black.

It wasn’t that far of a climb and she touched down on dirt floor after a few seconds. The soil reminded her that she nor the princess didn’t have any shoes but it was too late to go back up and see if there were any that would fit in the laundry room.

Groping blindly along the wall, Pidge’s hand hit an old lantern and, with a snap of green smoke, the wick flickered to life. It illuminated old, crumbling stone, wooden beams that held the ceiling up, and old little knickknacks people had forgotten about like tied up sacks and what looked like some squirreled away goblets from the kitchen. The tunnel only went one way and, together, the women walked.

Allura took Pidge’s hand at some point—the one currently not holding the black sword—and they held on to each other as the tunnel tilted upwards. Roots peeked through the ceiling; wood roots that were thick and wove around the walls, thin roots that got tangled like fine hair, thorny, vine-y, soft. A stone staircase was beyond them, leading up to another trap door.

It opened in the open area left to the stables, where many of the riding beasts could wander about. Thick, thorn bushes hid the opening of the door from view and a fence covered in tangled vines covered them at the back. Behind them, there was clashing at the castle. Screaming, yelling, shouted orders lost to the dark of the night.

And, fainter, in the walls of the castle; a roar of rage.

Pidge couldn’t think about that now, so she grabbed Allura’s hand and they ran towards the flickering light of the stable. If they could get one of the large riding beasts—a Volashka—they could ride into the forest.

Too late, did Pidge realize that the stable door was open and the inside smelled of blood. Too late to duck into the undergrowth around the fence and crawl to the woods.

Too damn _late_.

Beasts lay upon the hay and the dirt, butchered down to even the youngest, the smallest. The ground was stained with their blood, their eyes open and unseeing, tapped into stalls by their masters and having no way to defend themselves.

Allura gasped softly beside her and Pidge tried to guide the princess around, back towards the door—

Only just did she manage to lift the black sword in time but she parried the blow wrong and thick, aching tremors shook the bones of her arm and, without a proper grip, the blade went flying into the hay.

“The Princess of Altea,” the Ohgihrian straightened up—he was wearing his species armour, unlike the ones Pidge had fought in the castle, “and her little servant boy.”

Pidge blew hot air up at her bangs, trying to get them to unstuck from her forehead. She calculated the distance to the sword and the amount of space it would leave between the mercenary and the Princess.

Too much, said the numbers. Too far.

“ _You_ did this?” Allura snarled; the words were harsh and cold and _burned_.

Fingers dug into Pidge’s shoulder. Nails almost punctured her skin.

Looking around, the mercenary grinned wolfishly, “do you not like my handiwork?”

“Only a coward kills those who cannot defend themselves,” Allura snapped and the Ohgihrian turned his head towards her and opened his mouth as if to say something.

A lantern hit him in the shoulder, flames spraying across the mercenary’s cloak, oil splashing upon bloodied hay. The princess had lifted it off the wall and thrown it in her fury and the glass spread upon the dirt and shone like small stars. He shed the fabric like a lizard shedding skin and lifted the sword in his hand. Fire glinted off the clean parts of the metal—the rest was dark with a liquid the Knight knew well.

“It does not matter, for you are unarmed,” the Ohgihrian hissed, “and _alone_.”

“I am never alone,” Pidge said and green infested her eyes like a swarm of termites, filling the brown irises as if they were a glass, swilling and spinning around her pupils. The leaf tattooed upon her wrist flickered and began to glow.

Her shadow grew like a tree across the floor, beneath the mercenary and behind him until it stretched up the stable wall. The darkness grew; rising and combining into a beast that was darker than any shadow cast by the flames of the lanterns. Half circle ears sat upon a featureless, rounded head.

Two radiant green eyes opened upon the black.

Wood folded like blades of grass, twisting and braiding together, pulling away from the wall of the barn and forming the figure of a beast. Its shoulder was easily higher than Pidge’s nose, padded paws with long claws kneaded into the dirt and hay, and a shortened muzzle opened to reveal the tips of pointed canines. The cat—because that’s what it was—stepped forward silently and light curved around those glowing eyes. A cream underbelly highlighted the dark emerald fur from nose to ears before it mixed with the woody brown of the tiger’s mane around round cheeks and a thick neck. Woody antlers grew from the space between the ears, fanning back and outward with one, two, three, _four_ branches that spiked upwards from the stems. Alstroemeria and sage were woven around them—creating a crown fit for a queen upon the beast’s brow.

A round tipped tail, half the creature’s body length, swiped through the air.

Pidge held her breath as the Green Lion opened her maw and _roared_. The sound shook the grass, the flowers, and the trees. Deep inside the Knight, a young wild thing howled.

A paw slapped down on the mercenary as he turned and knocked him, head over heels, into one of the beams holding up the stables. The wood cracked and splintered from the blow and the Ohgihrian didn’t get back up.

“Green,” Pidge breathed.

The Lion purred.

**Author's Note:**

> hi  
> my name is grim and this is jackass
> 
> if i get hate from five year olds for this please remember that there is a pixar approved version


End file.
